


Heatwave Fevers

by Twisted94



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Australia, Brotherly Love, Bushfire, England - Freeform, Family, Heatwave, Illness, New Zealand, Panic Attacks, Scotland, Sickness, black Saturday, family love, tragic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 09:16:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4014220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted94/pseuds/Twisted94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This short story follows The Kirkland family as they struggle to help a very sick Australia deal with one of the worst Heatwaves in Australian history. The very same one which lead to one of the Nation's most tragic recent disasters.- Black Saturday!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own hetalia! :) But feel free to tell me what you think!

It had been a wonderfully overcast winter afternoon in the normally not so sunny United Kingdom. A pleasant chill hung in the fresh air, an icy wetness layering the green grass and trees nicely. Honestly it had been the best weather seen anywhere in his country for weeks (there was no rain for once, hurray!) and Arthur Kirkland was taking full advantage! How could you not!? A pleasant day should be shared with pleasant people after all, and if you didn't have any pleasant people in your life; you just call your family! So that's what Britain did.

The normally uptight Nation had invited his brothers Ireland, Wales and Scotland (much to their surprise) over for a spot of afternoon tea and biscuits in his beautiful, all be it wet rose garden. And it was going fairly well considering each mans obvious personality differences and their tendency to clash with one another on almost every subject. The four had sat chatting together for some time; even going so far as to joke and reminisce about older, darker times. Personally, the Brit thought they were all just happy to take a break from the stresses of their everyday lives. He couldn't blame them in the slightest.

It had also been a nice change from the hassle of his day to day life as a powerful Nation.

The key word here being, had.

Crisis and trouble just couldn't seem to leave him alone for just one blooming afternoon it would seem. But of course he shouldn't really be surprised, things never went quite so smoothly for the poor man. If there wasn't a War or a crisis threatening to madden him, then it was his family or allies. It was a true wonder he hadn't been locked away sometime ago, but hey, small miracles right?

He had been standing in his old kitchen when everything had decided to go to hell around him. Wales and Ireland had long since thanked him for his (rare) hospitality and left on important business. Leaving his older brother Scotland the only one still hovering around. He leaned lazily on the kitchen counter top eating up left over biscuits while England stood over the large brass sink; cleaning the fine chinaware and vaguely listening to the redhead chatter on about lord knows what in his thick accent.

Then it happened.

It was the loud unmistakable 'BANG' of his large wooden front door being forcefully kicked in and the air shattering, distressed scream of his name from across the large, empty house that had the Scotsman choking on his biscuit in surprise and caused the beautifully patterned, very old plate to slip from England's soapy grip and smash loudly to the floor, shattering indefinitely.

"DAD!" Again he was being addressed, it was a horrific call for help filled with pain and panic. England's eyes were wide with fear, his body frozen stiff in place as his brain screamed at him desperately. Something is wrong! Someone's dead! The world is ending!

Get ahold of yourself man!

He knew that, high, shrill, frightened scream all too well. It was the 'Dad we messed up royally and now we're hurt or in big trouble scream'. That scream only came from one little Nation.

New Zealand.

"DAD HELP ME!"

"Let's go!" Scotland had recovered from his coughing fit and was now racing past him to help, he griped Arthur's shoulder tightly as he rushed by; snapping the blond from his daze. Talk about being caught of guard. As he raced down the hall, England couldn't help but think about how long it had been; he defiantly hadn't heard a scream like that for a very long while. At least not since New Zealand was only a small lad and he and Australia had gotten their little arms stuck inside one of his tractors while playing out in the fields.

What an odd thing for him to think about at a time like this.

His and Scotland's boots thumped urgent and heavy against the old wooden floors as they raced past the hallway towards the foyer and front door. Towards the impending disaster, whatever it may be!

"New Zealand, what in blazers is going on her-

He stopped mid scold as he rounded the corner quickly, his voice dying in his throat and his eyes fell on his sons.

Oh no.

Their eyes made contact then and the slight relief that flooded through the panicked Kiwi when he spotted him was so, amazingly obvious; it was kind of flattering.

"Dad!" New Zealand stood teary eyed in his foyer, his smaller body shaking as he struggled to support the much larger weight of his older brother's arm and body on his tiny shoulders.

Australia 'stood' propped up against his younger brother, his tanned bandaided face flushed and sweating heavily, his body practically limb as he struggled to breath though his unconsciousness. This was new and defiantly not good.

"He's having a heat wave!" Zea explained, voice desperate and shaking. "He...he just collapsed suddenly!" His legs wobbled with emotion, struggling to stay planted firmly under the dead weight.

"Shit!" Allistor cursed and wasted no time skidding over to New Zealand's side, taking the large Aussie off him easily. Scotland with his great height and strength supported the limb young man with little issue as he turned to his younger brother for much needed direction.

"I don't know what to do!" The curly haired brunette wailed between sobs as England approached to comfort him. A simple gloved hand fell to rest on top of the short mans head affectionately. It's ok now.

I hope.

"Take him into the parlour, would you Allistor." Arthur instructed calmly, indicating to the well decorated room to their right. His hand fell from New Zealand's head to his shoulder supportively as he guided the distraught lad into the parlour after the Scotsman. "On the couch will suffice."

Scotland laid the young man down onto his back gently, propping his head up with one of those overly fancy pillows the Pom seemed to love so much, Australia did not fit well, his long legs flopping over the side of the couch a little awkwardly. The redhead stepped back with his hands on his hips and looked at England with a quizzical 'what is happening' stare.

That's a fair question. What in the wide world was going on!?

England wasted no time kneeling down beside his struggling oldest son, brushing away the sweaty bangs of brown hair and checking his forehead temperature.

Hot. Very hot.

This is not good at all.

"New Zealand. Fetch me some wet towels and a glass of cold water. " He instructed calmly, not turning his attention away from the gasping, unconscious Skippy. With an unseen nod, the young Nation ran off imminently to do as he was told, the old English house memorised from childhood. He was just glad for some direction.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with him?" Allistor questioned, moving to stand next to his younger brother in a bid to offer any assistance necessary. This was his nephew who was suffering after all.

"He's having a heatwave I'm afraid." Arthur explained as he began promptly unbuttoning the brunettes shirt. "This is fairly common for him, get his trousers will you?" The Brit pulled the sweaty explorers shirt off and threw it out into the hallway. "We need to reduce his heat to start with."

Scotland was quick to pull off Australia's big hiking boots and socks before he began unbuttoning his cargo shorts. "Does he usually pass out like this?" He questioned as he started pulling the article of clothing down Aus's tanned, muscular legs. He threw it to join the shirt in the hall.

Poor lad had nothing but his Australian flag style undies on now.

He had grown up nicely if you know what I mean- it must be his Scottish blood.

"Once when he was young back in 1889, 53°C!, that's bloody 128°F! The poor sod was completely unresponsive for 6 hours..." England replied, completely unaware to the Scots thoughts; the Brit stood up and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. God that had been one of the scariest days of his long long life, he was boarder line distraught with grief for his little boy, if that bloody frog France hadn't been by his side supporting him, he didn't know what he would have done. But that was along time ago now, surely Australia would be fine. He was a man now, no longer his little monster. He had to be fine.

But still, this was no doubt a bad sign. He was very much concerned to say the least.

"Should we be worried?" New Zealand asked, returning with a glass of water and an armful of damp towels just like instructed.

Yes.

"I'm really not sure to be honest." England took a wet towel and folded it up to place on the young mans forehead, it should help cool him down. "How long has he been on this heatwave?"

"A week I think, maybe 8 days- all days over 46°C (115°F). I visited him only 4 days ago and he was doing just fine- staying in bed like normal. Till I found him this morning on his kitchen floor." Zea explained, handing another wet towel out to Scotland who placed it over Australia's sweaty, toned chest to cool him. The Aussie was gasping and struggling heavily with his breathing, his body jolting mildly in shock.

"You did well to bring him my boy." England praised idly, stepping away from the occupied couch to pull back the heavy green curtains and open a nearby window. A fresh, all be it crisp English winter breeze swept its way through the parlour, making everyone shiver. Australia made a small moan of relief as the chilly air washed over his sweaty, overheated skin.

"Thanks... Dad." New Zealand mumbled appreciatively, crossing his arms tightly in a fruitless attempt to keep warm. "I've never seen the fever do this before. When he collapsed, I panicked." He mumbled, staring down at the sweaty gasping face of his brother.

"Fever?" Scotland asked as he causally shrugged of his large, warm blue and white coat and draped it over his shivering nephew who accepted it with a kindly 'cheers'.

"Yeah, heatwaves for him are like getting really sick with a fever- being delirious and hot." Zea mumbled in reply, hugging the coats delicious warmth close to his small frame; it smelt faintly of alcohol and smoke mixed with freshly cut grass- it was comforting. "Aus stays in bed when it happens and I check up on him."

"Well aren't you a good brother! I'm sure he'll be fine now thanks to you laddy." Scotland smiled cheerfully, throwing his large arm proudly around New Zealand and pulling him in close for a half hug. "Arthur could learn a thing or too from his son!" He joked, chuckling at the glare the Brit cast his way. "Arthur here was never so kind to me growing up! Hard to believe I know!" He added with a chuckle.

England really doubted that Allistor understood the seriousness of their current situation. His child was laying unconscious on his couch, desperately needing his assistance and Mr 32.9°C is my hottest recorded temperature was making jokes!

It was about time he left. He sure as hell wasn't helping here!

"New Zealand. Make sure your brother stays well hydrated." England instructed firmly before turning his attention to his own older brother. "I thank you for your assassinate Allistor, but I do believe it's time for you to be on your way." He quipped, already walking past the Scot to usher him out towards the front door. The Scotsman looked rather taken aback at the statement, he opened his mouth to object; spinning around to look at the Pom.

"But I'm not-

"Thank you again." Arthur cut in with a forced smile, walking to stand by the open door to send a message.

"Oh! Your coat, uncle Al." New Zealand placed the glass of water down and started to shrug it off but Scotland smiled cheerfully.

"You keep it for now sonny, its a little too nippy here in the 'sunny' United Kingdom for you. I'll collect it from Arthur later." He insured, ruffling those soft curly brown locks lovingly. Honestly, how could someone like his brother raise two such wonderful little Nations!? Well, they weren't so little anymore, New Zealand was- but Australia had shot up faster then any weed in a wet Scottish field, rivalling the Scotsman in height and muscle.

"Much later." The Brit grumbled to himself under his breath. Scotland decided to ignore him, God England got on his nerves quickly some times and it was taking all his strength not to let his famous Scottish blood boil into anger. He instead headed for the door and with a polite nod, he said his (unwanted) goodbyes before stepping out into the cold- the large wooden door almost clipping his heels on the way out.

"Bliddy wanchany horrid breether i' mine, fit daar he!?"

He lit up a cigarette, disgruntled.

What a bastard.

..

'Thank goodness he's gone. Good riddance to drunken trash'. Was all England could think when that door finally shut behind his irritating older brother. It wasn't that'd didn't love Scotland dearly, he did, it was just hard sometimes (all the time in fact) to play pleasantries with someone so grating and irritating to his nerves. The man just couldn't help himself when it came to poking fun and in return, England had developed a very very short fuse for his antics; this of course made the Scotsman angry, which in turn made him angry...and so on. So it was safe to say that any more time then an afternoon together was really forcing it. But all that didn't really matter now, he was gone!

And England can finally focus on the pressing issues at hand without being insulted nor irritated. What was he doing again? Oh right! Back to panicking then!

Marching back into the chilly parlour, he was met with the unchanged sight of his eldest stretched across the small couch glistening with sweat, his bare chest rising erratically with his shallow gasping and wheezing; still very much unconscious. New Zealand was no longer present, he had no doubly slipped away at the first possible opportunity to retrieve something that he thinks will help.

England walked in and knelt down beside Australia once again, his hand coming to rest on his soft all be it sweaty brown hair as he stroked it affectionately. You will pull through, I know it.

"You're a tough lad." He cooed lowly (it was more a fact really, Australia was one of the toughest, courageous and most foolhardy Nations he knew!) And he loved it. He sat like that for several moments, just stroking that soft hair repeatedly, lovingly like any parent would- silently hopping his touch would make him well once again. It wouldn't, but he can hope.

England's hand hesitantly dropped away in favour of grabbing the glass of water that sat closely on the small wooden side table. Picking it up he shuffled to tilt his sons head upwards and place the glass softly between his lips, he tilted the glass ever so slightly and let a small stream of water dribble its way into the other mans mouth. His stoic expression broke out into delight when he noticed the water was actually being accepted and swallowed!

"Good man! Keep it up!" He encouraged, overly joyed as if it was the worlds most amazing, jaw dropping accomplishment- it wasn't, but to him it was pretty close. England was no nurse (despite how well he filled out a costume, it's a long story) he had little to no bedside manner, Allistor can vow for that personally; so yes, this was a kind of a miracle. Arthur continued to hydrate the younger Nation until the light swallowing of Aus's throat stopped and water began dribbling from the sides of his mouth and onto the couch.

The poor lad must be ever so dehydrated, what he wouldn't do to have him wake so he could put him under a cold, refreshing shower- lord knows he needed it. Droughts were tough at the best of times, but adding that to an unrelenting heatwave just spelt horrid suffering for all; people, wildlife and Nation!

The old ornate clock upon the fireplace mantle chimed loudly, snapping the Brit from his thoughts. 6:30 already? Where the devil had the rest of his afternoon gone?! It was almost supper time and he had not prepared a thing!

What absolutely atrocious hosting skills!

"I know what you're thinkin' you old goat. Don't ya worry about it, I got it covered." New Zealand had reappeared in the hallway, a smile on his pale face- looking much more like himself, though his eyes were still slightly red.

Old goat!? How dreadfully rude...but, he could let it slide, for now. The young sheep loving Nation balanced a chopping board in his hands, he had obviously raided his pantry because it was topped full with assorted cheeses, tips, meats and fruits. Even the expensive ones, great. He had a loaf of fresh bread that England had baked this morning tucked under one of his coat arms, plates under the other and...good lord, a large knife tucked into the belt of his pants as he shuffled into the parlour.

"It's a ploughman's lunch...but for dinner!" Zea explained with a grin as England walked over to take the plates and knife away before he hurt himself. Good grief, he knew having his only well mannered son living so close to that wild older brother of his would have its effects! And to think, this wolly of a Nation was suppose to be keeping an eye on the other! It was a wonder that side of the world wasn't currently on fire. He blames himself for his bad foresight. What was worse was, they were his sons.

They placed everything down on the small wooden coffee table before sitting on the floor in front of Australia to eat (England would much have preferred the couch, but this will do).

"I figured this might be easier, since we gotta keep an eye on him...Christ I'm starving- oi pass me some grapes!" The kiwi explained, piling a piece of thick cut bread high with topping, England stared at him. Excuse me?

"What do we say?" He questioned, holding said fruit; a brushy eyebrow raised expectingly- god if was like Australia wasn't unconscious at all, he'd recognise those abysmal table manners anywhere.

Really? The Kiwi gave an inward sigh, he was too old for this! He was a full grow Nation for goodness sakes. Aghhh fine.

"...Ta."

"Good lad."

New Zealand just rolled his eyes but accepted the fruit before leaning back to drink from Australia's cup of water that sat on the side table. He tabbed the damp cloth on his brothers forehead as he leaned passed, collecting the excess beards of sweat lazily- all the while biting into his dinner.

Everything gonna be just fine, it had to be.

...

"I've got the toll." New Zealand whispered, his voice low and deadly serious as he blew away the steam on his hot cup of tea. Night had fallen and their supper long since finished as the pair continued to sit in the now absolutely freezing parlour room, unwilling to leave. The window still hung wide open to the icy English winter night, the two Nations wrapped up in soft blankets and sipping hot tea as the warm yellow light of an ornate table lamp washed over them; filling the small room with a comforting glow that didn't quite make it too the dark corners. It reminded England of his days without electricity, reading to his boys by candlelight- it was comforting.

Australia lay beside them on the small couch, his breathing shallow, his face sweaty and strained. His situation improved but not yet any better.

"Excuse me?" Arthur questioned, pouring the large white teapot expertly to fill his own teacup, his eyes trained on his youngest.

"Death Toll. I've got it, Australia's Boss called before." The kiwi explained, his eyes shining sadly in the soft lamp light as they searched his brothers sweaty face for answers. How he wished he could shoulder some of his pain.

"Oh." England hadn't been aware that there even would be a death toll, not for a heatwave surely. That was stupid of him, of course there had been death- it was the only way you could explain Australia's sickly, suffering state. "How...how many then?" He took a sip of hot, delicious tea to calm his nerves.

"...over 800...so far."

"Jesus wept...in only 8 days!" The Brit cursed into his cup, his green eyes shifting to stare at his son with a sympathy. Poor lad, at least he looked to be sleeping a little more peacefully now. The cool night air doing wonders for his overheated, naked body.

New Zealand tore his gaze away to focus on drinking his tea, his shoulders shuffling comfortably in Scotland's large, warm coat.

"Dad...?"

"Hm..?" England took a sip of his tea, his eyes closed peacefully, listening. Australia's breathing was almost completely silent now, no longer a gasping, moaning mess. Good.

"Thanks for taking us in and looking after Aus. I know you probably have better things to do then look after a couple of dags like us." Zea whispered with a small, appreciative smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. England in turn placed his teacup onto the short table and stared across the wooden stretch at his son.

"My boy, you are absolutely correct." He stated firmly before his thin lips broke into their own small, returning smile. "You and your brother are most certainly the biggest 'dags' I have ever known. Always so horribly filthy and absolutely far too dangerously curious for your own good to say the least." He picked up his tea and took a small sip. "Honestly I can not count all the broken bones suffered between you and I can barely understand that barbaric speech you dare to call the English language." He continued from over his cup. New Zealand's smile faulted slightly.

"But...despite all the trouble you boys seem to cause me, and it's a lot, I am absolute in my decision that I wouldn't change any of it for the whole world." England's eyes crinkled happily. "You're both my 'dags' after all. And it's my job to keep you alive." He finished and was greeted with a wide grin from the young man across him.

That's my cheerful boy.

They sat in comfortable silence for several moments, both finishing off their tea and listening to the icy wind rustle loudly through the trees and bushes outside before it swept it's chilly way in through the large window.

With a shiver, New Zealand finally spoke.

"When ya think he'll wake?" He questioned, eyes level with the calm Brit, filled with curiosity.

"Well I dunno mate, how long do we dags tend ta kip for?" Came the dry mouthed, scratchy reply from behind him.

New Zealand and England both jumped in surprise, almost dropping their cups.

"AUS!" The kiwi cried in relief, his eyes prickling with delight. His brother had returned!

Both Nations waisted no time abandoning their drinks for standing and shuffling over to the occupied couch.

"My boy! How are you feeling?" England questioned as he helped Australia shift his cushion so he could sit up. The skippy gave a heavy, pained moan once seated. He looked like absolute shit: his sweaty hair stuck out at different angles, his face was flushed and groggy; not to mention his rippling arm and stomach muscles kept jerking every few moments in heat exposed shock.

"Bloody cactus." He replied slowly with a dry, rough cough. "Mouth's as dry as a dead dingo's donger." He groaned, reaching up weakly to wipe collecting sweat from his eyes. "And hot, very bloody hot."

England patted his sons head softly, pretending he understood any word of that. He didn't. Maybe he's still delirious?

New Zealand grinned in understanding before explains quickly. "He feels dead, his mouths dry and he's very hot."

"Oh..."

"Here bro, drink up." Zea handing the nearby glass of water to the older man who took it gratefully and started drinking it down as of it was his only lifeline to this world, he didn't even seem fazed when it started dribbling out the sides of his mouth in his hurry. New Zealand laughed and slapped his brothers sweaty bare leg lovingly. "There ya go bro, she'll come right! Crook my ass!"

"It's Dinky-di, how's bout you give it a burl instead mate." Australia laughed weakly in reply as he finished draining the glass of its contents, handing it back to England who just looked confused.

"Yeah...nar, I'm sweet as."

"Too right."

Seriously, were they even speaking English anymore? He swore he could understand New Zealand just a moment ago. Honestly, it's like the lad could speak two languages at once.

"I'll fetch you some more water then." Arthur stated, squeezing his son's bare, muscular shoulder supportively before shuffling out of the parlour and disappearing down the hall, leaving the two brothers alone.

Silence passed between them for a few moments as the tanned older man struggled to get comfortable on the old, fancy couch. He was just so hot- it was unbearable.

"You sure you're right bro? You gave me one hell of a fright today." The smaller man stated seriously as he knelt down beside the couch and shuffled the cushions to help. Australia ran his hand shakily through his sweaty brown hair, slicking most of it it back quite efficiently. Those two ahoge just could be tamed!

"Yeah, cheers for that mate- you're a ripper. And I'm surviving- once this heatwave passes I'll be right as rain." The skippy replied before drew in a shallow, gasping breath for air. "Hey, do you care if I take my undies off- it's bloody hot in here!" Australia had already hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his blue boxer shorts and started to pull them down his legs when New Zealand stopped him.

"Ew, yes- keep your knickers on I don't wanna see your junk." He interjected quickly, face redding. "Ands it's bloody freezing as you loon. It's winter up here in this chillybin- Uncle Scotland had to lend me his jacket today." A shiver ran down his small frame as if to emphasis his point.

"Oh..."

More silence, a heavy, uncomfortable air had settled around the two. They both knew what was coming next- it had to be asked. Australia had to know.

"So...what's the damage...?" He finally asked, his voice low and cautious. New Zealand shifted awkwardly, his large eyes becoming sad and downcast.

"Look...bro, you're still not right, let's not talk abo-

"Zea." Australia cut him off dryly, his shaking hand moving to rest on his brothers. "Please mate, I need to know how many. It's important."

The younger nation struggled to meet his eyes, causing Australia to feel extremely worried and helpless. Please God be merciful.

New Zealand swallowed the lump in his own throat and nodded, his voice coming out just barely a whisper. "Y-yeah...Yeah..ok..I know. I was told it's about ...it's 811...so far..."

No...

What? How is that possible? That can't be right.

Silence! horrible, disgusting silence filled the void between the two as the information was digested.

Australia's eyes widened, his hand fell away from Zea's numbly as he lay back into the safety of the couch; his body over come with shock. How could this happen in only 8 days!? His brain struggled desperately to find an answer.

"Jesus bloody Christ.." He whispered, more to himself before he coughed dryly into his hand. No wonder he felt like utter kangaroo shit, his people were suffering far worse then he had realised. They were dying.

He was going to be sick.

"I'm sorry bro." New Zealand stood up and placed his pale hand on his brother's bare, sweaty shoulder to comfort him. I'm here for you. "I'm so sorry."

"...me too Zea, me too mate."

...

Chapter 1 of 2 complete! Poor Aus! Reviews would be great!

-So this is set in the horrid Australia heatwave of early 2009. The one that killed many and sparked one of Australia's most tragic recent events!

I also really love writing sick Aus!

Some slang terms:

Dag: Dork, Clown.

Cactus: Dead or Broken.

Crook: Quite ill.

Dinky-Di: The real thing/ Genuine.

She'll come right: It will get better/ become alright.

Dead Dingo's Donger: Dry

Yeah...nar: No meaning, used to fill in start of sentence / no.

Sweet as: Alright/ Awesome .

Too right: You're Right.

Cheers: Thank you.

Mate: Friend.

Ripper: Great.

Chillybin: Esky or Cooler.

Scotland says:

"Bliddy wanchany horrid breether i' mine, fit daar he!?"

\- "Bloody wicked horrid brother of mine, how dare he!?"


	2. Chapter 2

"So, how is he today?" Scotland questioned curiously, sipping on his hot cup of coffee as he sat at the kitchen's old wooden breakfast table. He watched England's shoulders visibly slump at the inquiry as the Brit stood over the kitchen sink washing and re washing dishes. Britain was upset- he could tell.

How is he? Now wasn't that the question on everyone's lips. How was Australia? Is he ok? How can I help?

He didn't know the answer. He didn't have any answers. If he had the answers, he wouldn't feel this helpless.

England placed the wet, extremely clean dish onto the airing rack to dry, his wet hands coming to grip the side of the sink to steady himself as he stared out of the open kitchen widow into the back flowery garden.

"He's...recovering, I suppose." Arthur finally replied slowly, his voice holding a slight quiver that spelt parental concern as he watched his sons sitting just outside his window- always under his watchful eye.

Australia sat on a cold stone garden bench outside amongst the roses; a blanket wrapped around his drooping shoulders, his sad eyes staring straight ahead- unblinking. The gaze of a broken man who was not home right now but a million miles away in thought. New Zealand sat quietly beside him (never one to leave his brothers side), rugged up in the warmest clothes he could get his hands on. His small pale fingers were intertwined with Aus's large tanned ones as he held his brother close for support, his head falling to rest on his arm as they both silently just watched the scenic countryside view beyond the short, stone garden wall together.

"It's only been a few days, he'll come round." Allistor offered upon noticing England's distressed body language. "Devastation like that takes time to heal."

A small, desperate sigh escaped Arthur's throat.

"I suppose so...I...I just.." The Brit's reply died in his throat, eyes still focused on his little ones, Scotland gave a small defeated sigh of his own.

The redhead stood from his chair and crossed the small kitchen, he placed his empty coffee cup onto the sink for washing before his long nimble fingers landed on the large pale yellow bow of Arthur's apron. Yes, the man was wearing an apron, it was a little cute to be honest.

"Arthur." He whispered uncharacteristically kind from behind, his voice close to the blondes ear as he tugged on the bow's ribbon and let the knot fall away easily. He lifted the apron up and over the Englishman's head smoothly before he placed it on the countertop close to them, Arthur span around slowly to look at him- eyes unbearably sad.

"He's a big lad Arthur and you've done everything you can for him." He spoke softly, his calloused hand moving to rest on the shorter mans shoulders affectionately, lovingly. "Trust me, wee brother- everything is going to be ok! He's a survivor."

England couldn't help but find himself nodding and believing in the Scotsman's firm words with all his hoping heart. His words rang with such an absolutism that he had no choice really. Allistor always had a knack for instilling confidence and courage in all around him. Even if the Scotsman didn't believe it himself.

"Thanks...you Git.."

"No problem, ye devil."

Allistor's large coated arm pulled the Englishman in close for a rare half hug, Arthur shut his eyes and accepted it openly. It was the small, wonderful moments like this that made England wish he was as close to all his brothers like Australia and Zealand were to each other. It felt nice to be loved.

But his own sorrows could wait, others were currently suffering more then him.

Now he just had to help Australia and his continued recovery and improvement.

And Australia was improving, slowly, but it was improvement all the same. It had been only 4 days since he and New Zealand had arrived unannounced at his cosy home- Aus a complete, unconscious disaster (not that he was counting days or anything).

What was the saying? 'Things get worse before they get better'? That had certainly been the case for the poor lad indeed. England should have know that things would escalate, they always do. A heatwave and a drought spelt bad news for any Nation- but for someone like Australia, it spelt only disaster, death and destruction.

It spelt fire.

...

"Lower his head Down- there perfect!" Upon New Zealand's perfect positioning of Aus's head onto the soft white pillow, England let the man's heavy bare legs follow so he was resting comfortably on the large bed. 'Comfortably' might be a bit of an overstatement- he was still gasping and sweating painfully so.

The two Nations had decided that a tiny couch in an old parlour room was no place to leave the sick or helpless, especially if the room you left them in is faraway from any toilets or bedrooms. Australia had awoken from his heatwave induced unconsciousness less then an hour ago and upon hearing the dreadful news about his people, he had become distraught and extremely sad. Which, in turn- had him desperately crying himself into unconsciousness once again- an awful cycle really.

So, New Zealand and England had pulled together to lift the sweaty, suffering sod off the couch and lumber him up the wooden staircase to his old bedroom.

"Get the window." Arthur instructed as he took a short moment to stretch out his back, hearing the satisfying sound of his spine popping back into place. Australia was a heavy guy, even working together both Nations could only just manage to drag his muscly arse up those dreadful stairs and into bed. And he really did mean drag.

There was a soft 'click' as New Zealand unlatched the metal lock on the huge floor to ceiling bedroom window before opening it inwards from the balcony that rest just beyond. The room's slightly cold temperature now dropping dramatically to near freezing as the icy night air invaded their space, tussling the long drapes softly.

Australia moaned happily at the cold touch on his skin, still very much unconscious and very much hot to the touch.

"It's late." England stated as his current youngest rejoined his side by the occupied bed. "You should be heading off to bed as well, you've had a very exhausting day my boy."

Defiance flicked across those worried green orbs but before New Zealand could argue his case to stay, the older blond rested a hand on his small shoulder lovingly.

"He used up what little energy he had being upset. So I very much doubt Australia will be waking again tonight." He stated calmly, his arm moving to wrap around both of New Zealand's small shoulders; holding him close to his side lovingly, the younger man shivered and snuggled into the hold, the warmth very well received. "And if he does happen to wake, he's got his own bathroom and you're just next door. He'll be fine, you should get the sleep while you can."

A small nod was his reply, good. It was nice to know that his son still heeded his advice so well- he was always the most (only) obedient one out of the two.

"I'll be sure to check up on him multiple times during the night." The Brit reassured before releasing his grip on his young son and yawning politely into his hand. "Now off to bed!"

"Oh, hang on a tic!"

New Zealand was quick to fill a small glass of water in the bathroom and place in next to Aus's bed (just in case, right?) before the two finally shuffled out of the bedroom with final, worried glances in Australia's direction. He'll be fine...

England turned off the lad's bedroom light, plunging the cold room into partial darkness (Zea had left his bathroom light stay on just in case) before he shut the bedroom door closed three quarters of the way; sighing tiredly once his son was gone from his view.

He'll be ok- morning will rise, and with it so will Australia's strength. He will be ok. Heatwaves shouldn't last much longer...

The two nations said their good nights before both headed off to their own respected bedrooms.

What a day! There was not much left he could do to help now, England just needed sleep.

...

It was comforting to have his room right next to his older brother's, it always had been- for as long as he could remember. Their big beds had been pushed up to either side of the same atrociously decorated wall. So when they were young, they would tap on the old walls to sent little messages (or just too annoy each other at night) and whenever New Zealand had a bad dream, or a problem he could just wonder in next door and climb into Australia's loving embrace under those warm blankets. He had never once been turned away by his brother. Not even when he was very young and would wet the sheets fairly regularly- he would stumble into his big brothers bedroom late at night and wake him all teary eyed; and always Aus would soothe him and get up to change the sheets so England would never find out. It was like the wall wasn't even there separating them sometimes, not even once they had moved to their own independent countries and that wall turned into a long long stretch of deep ocean- nothing would ever really keep them apart. They were family.

And on nights like this one when New Zealand couldn't get to sleep, he would be able to just lay still and listen to that Aussie's soft, rhythmical snores next door. Except tonight there were no such calming musics to distract him but dry gasps and sweaty, pained moans as his brother suffered so very close to him- but out of his grasp. Stupid wall.

And for what felt like the hundredth time that night, New Zealand coincided sleeping in Australia's room, in his bed- with him, helping him, loving him. But he did not, Australia needed his rest.

It had to be very early morning by now, at least 3- judging by the large moon outside his window, and he was so very tired, exhausted even- but sleep just would not claim him! New Zealand groaned, rolling onto his side; he had heard England get up twice now and check up on everything- just like he had said he would, not that it mattered, he would hear it if Aus woke up.

Australia would cough and groan if he woke.

"...arghhhh..."

Just like that, this wall may divide them but it did little to block anything out. If Australia needed him, he would know.

"...aaarrrrrGHHHH!"

Wait. That is Australia.

"AAHH...AARGGGHHH!"

Smash!

Wasting very little time, New Zealand threw back his blankets hurriedly, rocketed out of his warm bed and ran out of his bedroom towards those pained shouts with no thought to put his pyjama pants on to stay warm (it felt nicer to sleep in an oversized shirt and boxers ok!? That's what he told his brother and he sticks by it.)

"Aus?!" His voice was a scared almost shout as he burst through his brother's old wooden bedroom door quickly, face panicked. He gasped at the sight."Oh no!"

Australia was very much awake, he lay crumpled on the cold floor gasping desperately for air, his sweaty forehead resting on the floor and wailing in immense pain. The water glass having been knocked over when he fell from the bed lay shattered to pieces all around him, cutting into his legs and arms.

But that seemed the least of the brunettes problems.

"ARRRRGHHHH!" Aus almost screamed in pain, his nails digging into the wooden floorboards beneath him, his eyes screwed shut as his sweaty back arched and twisted upwards violently. It was awful to watch.

New Zealand wasted no time switching on the bedroom light before skidding over to his suffering brothers side and dropping to his knees to help.

"A-are you ok, what's wrong!?" Green eyes were wide and scared as he attempted to grip his brother's sweaty forearm to flip him onto his back. His trembling hand brushed over that toned, bare skin and the kiwi instantly hissed painfully, jerking back instinctively. He had been burnt.

"AhhhhhARRGHH!" Tears were rolling down the Aussie's flushed cheeks now.

Australia was burning.

His skin was white hot to the touch, his back and chest muscles spasmed erratically as he gasped in a way that sounded like he was choking on thick, black smoke.

Bushfire smoke.

"Christ!" New Zealand was quick to pull off his large nightshirt and use it to protect his pale hands as he once again gripped his brother and flipped him over so he was laying flat on his back. The intense heat of his burning flesh was unbearable, seeping through the shirt's thin material quickly, the closeness of that warmth causing small beads of sweat to form on the kiwi's forehead despite the chilly winter air.

Aus gripped at the floor urgently for some kind of support, his face flushed and wet with tears and sweat, his hair plastered to his forehead as he tried desperately to breath between the agonising squeals that ripped through his throat. Help, he needed help. It was so unbearable. He was burning.

"OHHHH...ARGGHH God!" His teeth were clenched tightly, it felt like red hot flames were licking their way under his flesh- burning and charring his insides, cooking him from the inside out.

Was he dying?

"Bro! AUSTRALIA! Listen, you...you're burning!...AUSTRALIA!?" Tears began to blur New Zealand's vision when his brother didn't respond(could he even hear him?!), his shaking hands desperately ghosting over his brother's flaming hot skin.

I can't touch him. What do I do!? He's on fire and I can't help him.

Wait the bathroom was right there, yes I can!

"Australia...listen to me!" He spoke firmly, though his lip continued to quiver helplessly as the tears spilled over his terrified eyes. His panicked voice must have reached his older brother, cut through his agony because Australia seemed to perk up at attention, still unable to open his eyes or unclench his teeth through the torture.

"Aarggghhh...Z-Zea? ZEA!" He gasped breathlessly, his voice raw and strained as he grasped at his own burning chest. He can't breath, he's insides were turning to ash!

"YES! Yes Aus it's me! Listen I'm gonna-

"It burns Zea!" Australia cried, his back arching skyward as his hands reached out helplessly for his brother, grasping at air when the younger man dodged.

"I-I know, listen, NO! Don't touch me. We need to get you into a cold shower!" New Zealand was sweating openly now, despite he too was only in his boxers on a chilly winter night. Was Australia's temperature still rising!? Good lord he really was going to burn himself to death at this rate!

He had to act quickly. He couldn't risk wasting time getting England.

"Argghhhhhhh...AARGGH!" Australia screamed dry mouthed as New Zealand wrapped his nightshirt around his bare sweaty shoulders, increasing his already intense heat dramatically. "N-no!" He protested weakly, positive this extra layer would kill him faster.

The wildfire on his flesh growing out of control.

The kiwi ignored him heavy heatedly and stood before coming around to stand behind him and hook his thin arms under Australia's own muscular ones. The heat was intense even with the extra protection separating their flesh and with a determined huff Zea heaved with all his strength; managing to lift his older brother up partially- taking extra care to not let his small bare chest touch his brothers scorching back.

"ARGGHH...Jesus Christ!"

"Shh..it's ok! T-try..try not to squirm! I know it hurts."

Maybe he should go get dad? Could he risk it

Zea began shuffling them both slowly backwards across the glass littered floor towards the open bathroom door. His breathing was coming out uneven and shallow, his curly hair already sweaty and sticking to his neck as he dragged the hot, heavy weight that was his brother across the large room. And lord he was heavy, New Zealand's arm and back muscles screamed at him to drop thisload and rest, and he almost did a few times. But Australia's horrid cries of pain and Zea's aching, pounding heart spurred him to keep moving. He wouldn't give up so easily, his brother needed him now more then ever.

"IT BURNS!" The older country croaked in agony as they finally passed the threshold of the bathroom, the sweat on Australia's face had caused his bandaid to come loose and fall to the floor, revealing the ugly jagged scar that sat across his nose- his permanent reminder of his failure at Gallipoli.

"Arrgghhhhh!"

As New Zealand heaved his brother into the small shower space, the thin material separating their skin was unbearably hot and he felt his own teeth clenching as he fought back a cry of his own. The delicate pale skin of his arms was defiantly burnt. Badly.

"I-I know, hang on Aus...Aus? AUSTRALIA!" He was yelling now, eyes wide in panic. No, no!

He wasn't responding very well, (at all really). His eyes had become heavy, his overly hot body now beginning to start its jerking, uncontrollable convolutions from the superheated muscles. The wildfire had spread quickly. It wouldn't be long now until it engulfed him whole.

No, not yet!

Panic and fear bubbled in the young mans throat as he propped Aus up on the tiled wall of the shower, not hesitating to turn on the cold water tap. Freezing cold water washed over them both seconds later, drenching their sweaty bodies instantly, Zea shivered. Australia still wasn't responding! Perhaps he was still hot?

"No...no, no NO! You can't die on me! AUS!" He was beyond distraught as he looped his nimble fingers into the waistband of his older brothers boxers and yanked them down his long, muscular legs- discarding them. He was completely naked now and Zea hoped it would help.

Still nothing- Aus wasn't even gasping or crying out anymore. Please don't be dead. You can't be dead.

Tears where streaming freely down New Zealand's wet face now as he knelt down close to his brother, he placed a freezing wet hand on his wet, toned chest- (at this point he didn't care if it burnt him) he was still extremely hot, but not nearly as bad as he had been. He could feel that erratic heartbeat under his fingertips.

Was that a good sign? He had no idea.

Awful silence filled the small, ugly bathroom as Zea held his breath for some kind of response, the only sound was the loud splash of chilly ice water hitting their bodies and the surrounding tiles from above. Desperate, New Zealand settled himself to be kneeling over each side Australia's outstretched legs, he cupped his brothers hot face in his pale, freezing hands and leaned ever so forward so their foreheads touched affectionately. It was one of Australia's very old tribal ways of showing ones deep affection for another, a way long since forgot by the Australian people- but New Zealand remembers it well, Aus would use it all the time back when they were very young. Pressing their heads together with a smile he would simply whisper loving

'Nganing-gin Bahba'.

My Brother.

Now, with their foreheads pressed together and the freezing water splashing down over them, New Zealand spoke softly, a slight quiver to his tone. "Y-you can't die on me, you hear, who am I gonna cream at Rugby?" He joked sadly, a laugh mixed of hysteria and desperation bubbling from his throat as he shut his crying eyes helplessly.

Still nothing. But through their touching bare chests, he could feel Australia's rapid heart rate begin to fall back down to normal. His skin still hot.

New Zealand's hands moved from cupping his brothers wet cheeks to snaking their way around his neck as he hugged him close, a small sob rippling through his throat at the whole helplessness that flooded him in this horrid situation. He was powerless to help. All he could do was wait and watch, hope and prey that everything would be ok.

"W-wake up you damn Skippy- y-you're Bahba needs you." He whispered lovingly as he held onto the older very warm man desperately, his boxes now drenched through. He shivered. Sobbed.

Please come back. Please don't die.

Then it happened, two large arms lifted to encircled his small, shivering body tightly, hugging him to that big overheated chest. Two long wet knees drew in shortly after, drawing the surprised kiwi in close and forcing him to sit on his brothers lap as the Aussie embraced his little brother with all the love his current energy could muster. God he was in so much pain.

"My Bahba." Came a soft but strained, groggy reply from under him.

"Aus!" Zea cried happily, drawing his forehead back to look down into the tired, pained face of his brother. The idiot was smiling weakly up at him, his eyes still heavy, face still flushed. The kiwi fought back fresh tears of pure joy, he was alive!

Thank you.

"I'm so glad you're ok!" He whispered thickly, still hugging him close. His brother's bare skin was still hot to the touch, but under the icy shower water, it was keeping Zea from freezing to death.

"Of course mate." Aus coughed weakly. "Who else is gonna wipe the floor with ya at Cricket." He joked, his laugh that followed was a gasping, bubbly mess. The kiwi grinned sadly. So much pain.

"Never." He released his tight hug around his brother's neck but did not pull away, instead just settled on laying in the large hot, lap of the Aussie, his head resting over his big brother's heart. "You right, bro?" He added with a whisper, serious. 'What happened' was really what he meant, but he dared not ask that- it had only been a few hours ago that Australia was an upset mess over the heatwave casualties. He didn't want to upset him any further.

Their was a short gap of silence before the skippy sighed sadly.

"...bushfires, more then one." Aus whispered lowly in return, hugging his little saviour closer; he wasn't ready to let him go yet. It was a lot, he felt it- at least 400 separate fires in total, but he didn't want to reveal that quite yet. Besides, he may be unbearably hot, but New Zealand was an extra layer of warmth he would not shed, no matter what. So there was no use worrying him. It's not like he can stop it.

Pain, agony ripped through him with every breath.

"Are they big?" Zea inquired meekly, his wet, cold fingers reaching to catch the streams of clear ice water that fell from his brothers wet hair.

"You tell me." Australia then released one of his hot arms from around New Zealand's skinny waist and lifted it up to show his little brother under the cool running water. The kiwi gasped slightly when it came into view, his mouth dropping open slightly in shocked astonishment.

The tips of his long fingers and mostly the bottom of his big calloused hand where charred completely black as if the skin had been horridly burnt then had died off. It looked painful and was very hot to the touch.

It was still burning him. Like dying flames under a charcoal log, creeping its way slowly up his arm as it ate away his flesh. And it wasn't just on this arm, Zea noticed, but on the other as well, both his legs too. All burn up very badly.

It will only get worse, they both knew.

"I'm sorry..." The smaller man found himself apologising, his face twisted with empathy. Aus's arm snaked it way back to its original, hugging position around that skinny waist where he could catch the cool water that ran off the back of Zea's head and soothed his agonising wounds. It was still unbelievably painful, like his whole body was still very much alight with the hottest flame, but now not so unbearably so.

But it was pretty close.

"Don't be mate, you probably saved my bloody life by getting me in here- cheers for that." He smiled up at those sad green orbs, his breathing becoming increasingly difficult with all the talking. "Besides, I'm the one who should be sayin sorry- I've managed to burn ya!" He nodded to the long, shiny red welts that run the length of both New Zealand's pale hands and arms. "Sorry mate."

"Nah, it's all good- just doin my job." The kiwi insured with a returning smile that quickly turned into a light hearted, cheerful grin. "Apparently my job also involves gettin you naked." He joked, indicating to the other mans very exposed crotch underneath him. Aus coughed back a laugh.

"Looks like I get to take me undies off in the end! Victory! I thought you didn't want to see my 'junk'?" Aus quoted his brother from earlier that night.

"Yeah, ew no that's manky bro. I don't." Zea laughed, leaning back so he could let the cold water splash its way down his brothers hot chest, cooling it.

"Nar...you're just jealous mate." Aus whispered hoarsely, tilting his head back to lean against the ugly bathroom tiles, his eyes shutting at that delightful cooling feeling.

"Of what?" The kiwi scoffed, shivering.

"It's size is just one more thing I beat you at- along with every sport ever." He cocked open a cheeky green eye and fought back a mischievous grin at the flushed, look on his little brothers face. It was adorable.

"Oh shut up, you dirty convict."

"Sheep Shagger."

"I'll seriously punch you."

"Nar you won't."

They laughed lightly, Australia gasping slightly at the pain it caused his inflamed body. He idly noticed the subtle increase of growth in blacked, burnt skin around his feet. That can only mean one thing- death. These fires were killing more of his people.

There was a small pause of silence between them before New Zealand finally spoke.

"Are you feelin any better?" He inquired, shifting to get ready to get up, but he knew the answer before it was spoken.

"No. Not really." Aus released his grip on the younger man and New Zealand took the opportunity to roll off his lap and sit next to him, moving out of the icy water spray so it was hitting the burning nation instead. "I think I'm just gonna hang out in here for the rest of the night. Thanks Zea." His eyes had fallen shut once again as this overwhelming feeling of cool washed over him now that the second body atop him was gone. He was still in so much torturous agony and he knew that if he stepped out of the safety of this water, he would surly burn up again. No thanks.

"Do...you want me to do anything for you, get dad?" The kiwi asked, sitting cross legged next to him. It was a little tight in here, but not uncomfortable. He wouldn't complain if it was.

"Nar mate it's all good. I'd love it if you stayed with me though." Australia stated, turning to stare at his little brother who shrugged.

"I was never leaving." Zea's freezing pale fingers found themselves interlacing themselves with Aus's charred, burnt ones supportively as the two just sit their in comfortable silence.

"I love you Bahba."

"Same here bro."

Nothing would separate them. They were family.

...

It's complete! :D I hope you all liked it.

I love New Zealand and Australia's relationship!

The Black Saturday bushfires were a series of bushfires (400) that ignited or were burning across the Australian State of Victoria on and around Saturday, 7 February 2009 and were Australia's worst ever bush fire disasters. The fires occurred during extreme bushfire-weather conditions and resulted in Australia's highest ever loss of life from a bushfire; 173 people died and 414 were injured as a result of the fires alone. It burnt over 4,500 km² (450,000 hectares) or (1.1 million Acres).

Slang:

Bahba: Brother (aboriginal)

Nganing-gin: My/Mine (aboriginal)

Manky: Gross

Mate: Friend.

Cheers: Thank you

Git: British insult- idiot


End file.
